


Rose Lalonde & The Queen of Spades

by untimelyWatchman



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Cycle of Revenge, Dystopian Space AU, F/F, Light Bondage, Mind Control, Poker, Pretentious Chess Metaphors, Rose♠Everybody, tw: Longfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-27
Updated: 2012-12-28
Packaged: 2017-11-22 16:18:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 12
Words: 17,924
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/611767
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/untimelyWatchman/pseuds/untimelyWatchman
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rose Lalonde, freelance investigator and crime writer on S'burb station, finds that she can no longer escape the grimdarkness of her past, and is called upon to save the galaxy by playing cards and snarking at hot legislacerators, casino-operators, and space mafia princesses. Expect there to be high-stakes poker games at some point in the narrative provided that one is extremely patient</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue: The Ace of Spades

**Author's Note:**

  * For [scrunch](https://archiveofourown.org/users/scrunch/gifts).



> The Prompt: Rose and Vriska, two long-time rivals gifted with a little too much luck, go head to head in the Intergalactic Poker Championships. I’d love to have Terezi as the card dealer and Kanaya as the mysterious ‘Bond girl’ type but anything else that works is cool.

It was dark when he awoke, pitch black except for the dull gleam of rusty metal in the crack of light that ran down the side of the cell door. The room stank of sea salt and oil, and echoed with the monotonous pulse of the ocean. He’d been captured, then. They were going to torture him, that was certain, and his heart and remaining kidney would no doubt end up in an ice chest in one of the shadier Alternian markets. The rest of him they’d stick in an alchemiter; grind his bones to make their bread. That is, unless he could convince whoever had got a hold of him that he was worth more to them alive. There was costly little time to consider this, for just then the door swung open, letting in the orange hallway light and two imposing figures.

They were trolls, he’d figured that much. The first was a giant, muscular to the point of absurdity, dressed all in studded street leather and gleaming with the sweat of recent exertion. He leered around the cramped room from behind a pair of cracked dark lenses, obviously designed to protect his sensitive eyes from the daytime sun. The second troll also wore sunshades, but hers were of human design, an exclusive brand by the look of it. Beside her bruiser she appeared small and vulnerable, but there was little doubt in the captive’s mind as to which was the more dangerous. By the cut of her blue suit and the horn that ended in a crescent, this would have to be his former target: Vriska Serket. Seeing him awake, her teeth showed in a frightening grin, and she gestured her larger companion to wait outside.

“Welcome to the underworld, Jack,” she said, taking a seat. Though there was scarcely space, the metal capsule they were in, perhaps a repurposed life-pod, contained a wooden desk, like he had used back in grade school, and two cut-rate metal chairs. Slick searched for one of his usual greetings, but there wasn’t a damn knife to be found anywhere on him. He was surprised to find his hands were not tied, though they felt strangely numb and lifeless. He moved them to the table, which met with no objection from his captor.

“The boys call me Slick,” he growled. No one in the Crew knew his real name. Better that way. No one except the man at the top… “Who do you even got who could squeal on me?”

The troll just laughed. “Oh but Jack—Slick, if you prefer, I didn’t even have to torture anyone! You’ve written it right there on your stupid jacket.” She gestured with a revolver, which had somehow found it’s way into her hands under the table. Glancing down, he read his name, stitched in a wild cobweb of blue string. Even in the dim light he could make out tiny drops of dried blood among the jumbled threads. As if in answer, his index fingers began to remember his clumsy pricks and stabs.

“Syndicate bitch! What have you done to me?” Now that Jack could filter through the pain in his skull, he realized how hazy everything seemed. The shadows just wouldn’t sit still. Vriska’s devil grin grew even wider and she leaned towards him, palms pressed into the notched wood.

“Oh, not much. Just a little something to make you more… suggestible.” She gave his smooth scalp a tap with one icy fingernail. “As you must know, since you tried to kill me, your organization has recently been taken for a great deal of money, a heist which could only have been pulled of by as thief as first rate as myself. Not that I gotta be real smart to rip off you losers, eh tough guy?” Vriska punctuated the question with a dramatic shrug.

She was no longer holding onto the gun.

Before his captor could blink, the cold barrel pressed to her chin and Jack’s breath, cheap liquor with a hint of throat lozenges, was hot and heavy against her face.

“Wait!” she screeched in sudden panic. Her claws dug into his wrists but he kept the gun steady. “Don’t! Don’t shoot!” 

“Where’s the money?” he yelled, every vein in his neck pulsing angrily. “Tell me what you done with the bonds!”

“Okay, okay. Okay.” She was gasping like a fish on a skillet, eyes darting about as if hoping for reinforcements. What a shame they were all outside. “I was gonna take it to Derse,” she said at last, panting. “Enter in the big poker tournament, y’know? Try and see if you’d come, try to win it back, and I’d take ya for even more.”

“Think you can make us look stupid in front of the trolls, is that it?” Jack hawked and spit in her face, making her flinch. “Go ahead and try, see what happens. We’ve been waiting for a chance to wipe all you greyskin bastards out, for good this time. It’s war ya want? You got it.”

“Good!” she said. “Real good.” The fear was suddenly gone, replaced with a hungry excitement. “And you can do that, the humans’ll go along with it?”

“Who d’ya think runs this town, bitch?” His fingers tightened on the grip and the trigger. “I say jump, the station says ‘how high?’ I say I want trolls dead, they ask how many? Tell ya what, think I’ll start with… you!” He pulled, once, twice, three times.

_Click Click Click_

“Stop,” she said calmly, and he did. Vriska sat back into her seat, every inch the professional, and adjusted the gun in his rigid fingers, gave the chambers a little spin. “I was going to go first,” she said, after a pause, “but I had no intention of taking three turns at once. You’re quite the aggressive roulette player, not that I’d expect any less. Now, you take your three, or I find out that the Crew sends me only cowards.”

_ You ain’t a coward, are ya? _

Matching her mocking smile, Jack looked over at the revolver in his hand. Eight chambers, as would be expected of Serket. He fired three times, hand steady, and set it down on the table facing her. “Pretty trick Serket, but I ain’t singin’. And if you’re playing for keeps here, I do not like your odds right now.”

“Oh reeeaaally?” she said. “Do tell me about my odds.”

Jack let out a harsh roar of a laugh, like a wild dog. “You think the Crew is made up of crooks like me, you filthy whore? We got friends in InterSec, in the ‘lascerators, even respectable society types. You may’ve seen me coming, but you won’t see them. Once we take back what’s ours, we’re gonna take you for all you’ve got, and then feed you to your bosses for a snack.” With his wrist, he wiped the froth from his lips and glowered down at her. “Your move, bitch.”

Vriska slowly stared down the barrel, pointing it directly into her seven-pupiled eye. “Forgive me for assuming you’d have anything useful to share,” she said, pulling the trigger with a deliberate snap. “Don’t worry though. I intend to give your friends exaaactly the opportunity they’re looking for.” Rising from her seat, she grasped Slick by the forearm and levered the gun back into his hands. “Now, be a good dog and finish the game for me. We’ve got to know who won, right?” Leaning closer, she gave him one last kiss on the forehead

_ The gun 8nt got bullets :::;) _

“You're not so smart as you think, broad,” Jack laughed, raising the gun again. “I already figured out it ain't got any bulle—”

  


  


_[> [S] Cue "Badass" Opening Credits Orchestral Piece](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oxKRJNa8ebA) _

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Ace of Spades has several poker nicknames relating to death, perhaps related to the alternate representation of the suit as blades in European decks. During the Vietnam War. American soldiers would plant the card on dead Viet Cong troops, believing that it played on their superstitions and would work as a weapon of intimidation. While no evidence suggests that this was the case, the card became popular among the troops anyway, sometimes being worn on the helmet as a dark answer to the “peace sign” so popular during that same period.
> 
> -(All Chapter End Info-Bites are paraphrased from wiki sites unless otherwise noted)


	2. Act One: The Six of Hearts

23:37 March 3rd OEA0013  
Docks and Organics Processing  
“Frost and Fish” Ward

The docks at the S’Burb Orbital Station were bustling with activity at any hour of the day. In the daytime, as much as such a thing existed for a carefully pressurized castle in the sky, the humans had the run of the place. . They did as humans always have done, seeing the aliens without really noticing them, parading around like they’d conquered the heavens by themselves. Their primary business was in grist—the fossils of a sterilized planet that they used to make the world anew. Day in and day out, the grist prospectors came and went in hulking barge ships, dragging with them the remains of a redwood forest, a baleen whale, the population of a suburb in New Delhi. The post-animate had become the lifeblood of the new world—all that kept the alchemiters running. But every day took a little more grist. 

Along with the humans there were boisterous red-scaled Nakodiles darting underfoot, always engaged in several high-speed financial or culinary transactions. In the background the hooded and husked Carapaces, moving in bands of light or dark shells, tended to their affairs with silent, determined purpose.

The night, on the other hand, belonged to the trolls. Grey of skin, short of mercy; long in tooth and claw. When humans took their first steps beyond the solar system they discovered the Gate, a spatial anomaly connecting the Sol galaxy to a distant, ancient race with a history written in multihued blood, and an aversion to the light of their system’s sun. Despite their territorial inclinations, the trolls cooperated with their human counterparts out of desperation. Their world lay in ruins, and their species at the brink of extinction. 

As much as the trolls, the night also belonged to the criminal element, more as a matter of tradition than lack of proper lighting. From a less politically correct perspective, Rose Lalonde had often thought, there was little practical distinction between the two. Which brought her attention firmly back to the reason she was not out during the daytime.

Twenty-odd meters ahead of Rose, her target for the evening changed course, giving a comically nervous glance around. He was a ranking member of the station senate. High blood, naturally, light purple to be exact, and clearly involved in something sinister enough that the power and influence of his birthright could not protect him if he were to perform it openly. She was going to shed a little light into those shadows, and he was going to writhe and burn.

As the cloaked figure disappeared around a corner, investigator Rose Lalonde tightened the wraps around her mouth and nose and picked up her pace. This evening she was posing as a Carapace worker, aided by a prosthetic shell covering her short blonde hair, some makeup to enhance her pale complexion, and beady black contacts. In indirect light, one might not think to check if her white skin was as hard as it was shellacked to appear. Fortunately her costume left her feet almost entirely free, a blessing as she hopped over discarded furniture and gnawed take out boxes scoured clean by the rats or Nakodiles. Three stories up a window was propped open by some sort of metal bucket; troll fusion hip-hop could be faintly heard from within. As she reached the turn Rose saw her mark zigzagging right down an adjacent street. Anticipating his direction she dropped the pretense of shambling entirely and broke into a full sprint, hoping to beat him there.

At the back of this lower-income housing cluster, in a usually forgotten corner of the station blueprints, a Carapace businessman maintained a series of warehouses for the cold storage of exotic meats and artifacts or wildlife that could not survive at normal temperatures. Despite a dead-end stakeout some weeks ago, when she had first come to S’Burb, Rose was reasonably convinced that it served as a headquarters for the Syndicate or the Carapace mob.

As she rounded the last corner, Rose could already smell the powerful aroma of coolant and deep-frozen fish that gave this quarter of the city its moniker. The main doors of the warehouse were open and a group of Carapaces, mostly dark-shelled, were huddled nervously around an armored hovertruck that was parked halfway inside, forward and rear lamps on and engine pulsing. At that moment, the troll senator Rose had been tailing burst onto the scene, visibly struggling not to appear flustered or out of breath. From the shadows, Rose adjusted the bundle in her arms, bringing her hidden camera to bear. Through the zoomfinder she observed as the cloaked figure brought forth a handful of credit chips from an interior pocket of his garment and presented them disdainfully to one of the Carapace gangers. She left the record on but had to rewind the playback and go for additional zoom. Judging by the glowing blue markings and the number of chips, that could be a salaryman’s yearly wage in Boondollars. Now the Carapace workers were pulling something out of the truckbed, removing an item for their client’s inspection. Even with maximum telescoping and brightness adjustment, the container remained indistinct. Clear, definitely, full of something glistening, and… crawling.

Beetles??

“I’ll be looking forward to an increased shipment next perigree,” the troll was saying. “Double the load, and I’ll triple your payment.” He was an orator, sure enough, accustomed to the commotion and strife of the senate chamber. His well-coached voice carried, whereas the carapace footpads came through at barely a whisper even on the audio enhancers.

“Triple’s fair pay your lordship,” the one in front murmured, “but I doubt we can pull double, even in a perigree.” He turned and discharged something from his mouth, a dark sizzling wad of plant matter that fizzled on the frozen docks. “Senate’s cracking down on smugglers, ‘specially off-worlders.”

The troll laughed, deep like the sea and about as pleasant as the things that lived in its depths. “The Senate is a bunch of self-important fools! They haven’t got the manpower to enforce such a program if they wished to. The ones you’re worried about are the Crew.” The Midnight Crew, he meant. It was S’burb’s private mafia, with little of the style and most of the stabbings. At least, it was the most powerful one at the moment, courtesy of a recent gory raid on the stronghold of their chief rivals. Among their other proclivities, they were known for being rather extreme human supremacists even by S’burb standards. Unhappily, most of went on in the Senate was a moot point if the Crew disagreed.

“Three and a half, my final offer,” bellowed the senator, tightening his cloak around his waist. “Use the extra to pay off the Crew, tell them Leviat H. Tuspur sent you! They and I have got an understanding.” It was rare, Rose reflected, for a mark to actually sign an audio recording, metaphorically speaking, much less with the poise and manner equivalent to gel pen. What was more alarming was his final boast: the Crew working together with a troll, in any fashion, was almost unheard of.

Before Rose had time to reflect on this bizarre revelation, she was abruptly caught in a chokehold. Someone behind her was digging a pipe across her throat—amend that, a cane. “You are herby charged in being a scandalously suspicious individual,” a familiar troll voice hissed in her ear. “How do you plead?”


	3. =>

Rose’s instincts took over before the memories could catch up to her. Dropping the camera, she stepped back on her assailant’s foot and delivered a sharp jab to the abdomen with her elbow. Her other hand shot to her throat to wrench away the obstruction to her breathing. The alley in which they were standing was briefly illuminated with blinding light, and Rose found her hearing abruptly absent save for a dull whine, the telltale symptoms of discharging a high calibur cane-based firearm at short distance from one’s face.

Terezi Pyrope’s cane clattered, smoking, to the ground. Both women paused, locked in the midst of their desperate grapple, nails digging into nostrils and cheeks, just long enough to notice that the highblood troll and every last one of the Carapaces were staring at them in a mixture of fear and murderous rage. With a sudden shove Rose broke free and began a mad dash in the direction she’d come. The Carapaces wouldn’t know the difference, but the new troll, Terezi, could hunt by scent. Better to double back and split the trail to make things more difficult.

As she cleared the first corner the windows behind her disintegrated in a hail of gunfire, a sudden shriek and then abrupt silence. One of the Carapaces had an automatic rifle, not a good sign. There was barely time for a dash of pity for the occupants when another, much louder, detonation echoed through the cramped metal corridors. Three metal spheres rolled around the corner and down the alley after her. While she had known she was in danger, Rose never would have guessed her pursuers to be this foolhardy. Men who lived in pressurized houses in a vast airless void did not appreciate those who threw exploding stones.

Recalling memories of her earlier trip, Rose tore full tilt towards a used recuperacoon casing that had been propped haphazardly against the wall to rot. It crashed down behind her, followed shortly by the detonation of the seeker grenades when they impacted with the obstruction. Her relief was short-lived, as at that moment the hubtop in her headband pinged to life. Gritting her teeth, Rose switched the device to sub-vocal and breathed, “accept.”

\-- grinningCarabinieri [GC] began trolling thornedTreatise [TT] \--

TT: My my, Inspector Pyrope, what a surprise  
TT: To what do I owe the terrifying and circumstantially improbable honor?  
GC: >:]  
GC: ROS3 ROS3 ROS3  
GC: ST1LL M1X3D UP 1N CR1M1N4L D34L1NGS 1 S33  
TT: I’m aware that Justice is supposed to be blind, but was she always this obtuse?  
TT: To even the most casual of observations, I was “mixed up” in gathering evidence.  
TT: I do still work independently with InterSec, no thanks to you.  
TT: That and I run an anonymous column in the Sun detailing the crimes of our beloved station’s wealthy and powerful, perhaps you’ve read it?  
TT: Ah but of course not, how silly of me.  
GC: 1M SUR3 YOUR R4MBL1NG PURPL3 PROS3 M4K3S 4N 3XC3LL3NT COV3R  
GC: BUT ROS3 4 STR1P3D JUNGL3B34ST C4NNOT CH4NG3 H3R STR1P3S TH4T 34S1LY 

Rose reached a pile of broken bicycle horns, remnants of some back alley troll romance, and wasted precious seconds scrambling over. Behind her came again the sound of gunfire, but she could see the main road ahead. The Interspecies Security Force or the local chapter of Legislacerators had to be on their way by now, with the mobsters striking culpable poses on a dozen security feeds. 

GC: HOW COULD YOU L34V3 M3 TH3R3 ROS3  
GC: 1TS 4S 1F YOU W3R3 HOP1NG 1 WOULD B3 SHOT  
TT: Terezi, I never knew would have thought you possessed such remarkable powers of clairvoyance.  
GC: RUD3! YOU W3R3 MY F4VOR1T3 OF JUST1C3 P4RTN3RS  
GC: D1D TH4T M34N 4NYTH1NG TO YOU?  
TT: A fraction of a percent, up until the part where you tried to indict me on charges of gang affiliation, when I distinctly remember explaining that I was in deep cover.  
TT: Do tell, though, which high-ranking officer’s face did you lick to get stuck on the illicit beetle trafficking rap on a human station?  
TT: I’d appreciate if you hurried with that explanation—either you or the renegade gunman is getting closer.

The Carapace’s hovertruck swerved into the street ahead with an ominous drone. With no time to change course, Rose leapt into a dive and rolled underneath the vehicle, screwing her mouth and eyes shut as she tasted soot and felt the near-crushing force of the air pumps that served to propel the magnetically levitated chassis. She came up gasping for air on the other side, thankfully out of sight of her pursuers, where she lurched across the street into a nearby apartment block, and collapsed behind a spare waste bin. In a matter of seconds, the keening of enforcer drones could be heard throughout the quarter, and the hovertruck speeding away as fast as its driver could handle. 

The minutes dragged as Rose attempted to catch her breath. The part of the city where she lived, known colloquially as the “Light and Rain” quarter, was an ethereally beautiful greenhouse, built to ensure the survival of what few plant species remained, but it was a trifle isolated. The dense thickets and regulated walkways did not lend themselves to morning constitutionals, a fact which she was coming to regret in a special place somewhere between her spleen and diaphragm. Eventually, she realized that Terezi had also been silent for a while. Rose decided to try again.

TT: Since your clumsy ambush disrupted my journalistic investigations, I think it only fair that I get a quote from the Legislacerator corps regarding this smuggling operation you were investigating.  
TT: …  
GC: ROS3 4S 4 FORM3R 1NT3RS3C OFF1C3R YOU KNOW V3RY W3LL HOW 4G41NST R3GUL4T1ONS TH1S 1S >:0  
GC: HOW3V3R 1 W1LL FORG1V3 YOUR STUP1D1TY  
GC: B3C4US3 1 W4SN’T 1NV3ST1G4T1NG THOS3 CR1M1N4LS  
TT: Perhaps on Alternia such miraculous coincidences are commonplace.  
TT: But since you’ve managed to follow me through a extraordinarily geometrical dimension rift to a completely different solar system, you could do us both the courtesy of not indulging in such transparent fabrications.  
GC: UNL1K3 C3RT41N SN34KY HUM4NS 1 DO NOT N33D TO L13 4LL TH3 T1M3  
TT: Which would not be adequate to explain why you are so pitiably poor at it.  
GC: 1M 4CTU4LLY ON 4 MURD3R C4S3 >:]  
GC: DOZ3NS OF N4KOD1L3S SUDD3NLY ST4RT 34T1NG P3OPL3 1N P4CKS  
GC: TH3 F1RST T1M3 D1D S33M L1K3 TH3Y M1GHT B3 TRY1NG TO S4Y H3LLO BUT NOW…

Rose paused for a second to consider the implications. Nakodiles filled an odd niche in S’burb society. As the name suggested, their tough hides and long toothy snouts bore a startling resemblance to crocodiles from Old Earth, not that any such creatures were to be found on the station. 

TT: I’d heard of that, actually.  
TT: The setup would be typical of a targeted assassination by one of our fine station’s many groups of so-called “organized” criminals.  
TT: Those little chompers are everywhere, so there’s no escaping them, and no one really understands what makes them tick.  
TT: Should one find something to spray the target with that makes them go berserk, there you have it. Instant intestinal smorgasbord.  
TT: I’m more concerned about why you have spent such effort in shadowing me.  
GC: FOLLOW1NG YOU ROS3?  
GC: WH4T3V3R COULD YOU M34N? >:]  
TT: If that’s what you consider trying to play dumb, I would recommend your introduce yourself to a remedial course in deception.  
TT: With your current display of subterfuge, I doubt you could convince a classroom full of drippy-nosed toddlers that you did not, in fact, steal the chocolate-dotted dough pastries from the chocolate-dotted dough pastry storage cylinder.  
TT: I’ve worked with you long enough to know what a devious tactician you are. You surely recognized my scent even through the disguise—why the pretense that you believed me to be some unknown loiterer?  
TT: In fact, I find it extremely difficult to believe that you would fire your emergency weapon by accident and not by design.  
GC: ROS3  
TT: What?  
GC: YOU 4R3 T4LK1NG SOOO MUCH  
GC: 1 4M NOT T4LK1NG  
GC: WHY 4R3NT 1 T4LK1NG ROS3?  
TT: Well, doubtless having escaped the near certain death you just exposed us to, you are engaged in an activity you feel to be of greater importance than paying attention to your hubtop.  
TT: Such as—  
TT: Oh.  
GC: Y3P >:D

Rose fell to her feet with a start, toppling into a power pole as her leg muscles collectively dug in their heels. Pulling herself up on hands and knees, her frantic gaze fell on nothing she could use as a weapon. She could only hope Terezi would be just as exhausted.

TT: I am about to feel incredibly stupid, aren’t I?  
GC: PR3TTY MUCH Y34H

A loop of hemp fell around her throat, tightening until she felt certain she could count the individual fibers. As Rose struggled to turn, a crude sack was tugged down over her face. The last thing she knew before losing consciousness was the maniacal laughter of Terezi Pyrope, and the sensation of falling off a cliff into a lightless, stagnant ocean with no horizon, and no bottom.


	4. =>

04:23 March 4rd OEA0013  
Sector#[Redacted]  
“Heat and Clockwork” Ward

Someone was standing in front of Rose, pacing, taut. His manner suggested a nervous physician, debating the most lighthearted, conversational way to inform a patient of their terminal gangrene infection.

“John?” she rasped. The sounds, to escape her throat, had to travel over miles of savage desert. Brave companions and native guides were lost to its formidable and untamed dangers. Most importantly, it hurt like fucking hell. The man turned, a wry grin showing off his pointed fangs, sunlight glinting coldly off his scarlet glasses.

Water sloshed her face, drenching Rose’s bangs and the remains of her disguise. She was tied to a chair, a thick rope reaching from around her neck to the darkness far above. The remainder of the room was also shadowed, such that the walls were difficult to distinguish. A troll was grimacing downwards at her from what appeared to be the kind of sentencing bench they used to cast unrepentant sinners into Tartarus.

“My apologies Terezi,” Rose gasped. She stuck out her tongue to scrape a bit more water from her cheek. “It seems that I have once again mistaken you for a man.” 

“I’m not John, Rose.” Terezi’s hair was longer than Rose could remember seeing it, reaching almost the middle of her back, and almost covering the two spiked horns that adorned ever troll’s cranium. Her signature pointed red glasses remained, a rather advanced amplification device to compensate for her blindness. Abnormally for an interrogation she was not dressed in her uniform, but practical work pants and a docker’s uniform with the sleeves rolled up. In one clawed hand she clutched her cane, in the other a hose, in case her victim required further resuscitation.

“I couldn’t agree with you more,” Rose replied. “Or if I were able, I am confident that my pathetic human neck would snap like a dry tinder with the force of the affirming head motion required.” Glancing down at the state of her dress was no simple affair with the noose, but she crossed her legs regardless to afford some privacy. “For one thing, I am supremely confident that John lacked the capacity to shoot himself.”

“He was going to kill you!” Terezi snapped, sandblasting Rose’s nostrils at full pressure. “Anyway, it was Vriska’s fault. She corrupted him!”

“Yes, and who sent him to her, hm? Who thought it would be a marvelous idea for a hatedate if your partner’s boyfriend was up against your rival?”

Terezi lowered the hose, turning away. “It wasn’t like that. Not that you’d believe ever believe me, Rose. I definitely wanted to stop her. I don’t mix business with my quadrants.”

Rose twisted in her bonds, hoping the noise would grab her interrogator’s attention. “So you have protested, loudly and without cessation. Yet your behavior in this circumstance makes a compelling case for cross-species romantic obsession, though of course as a Legislacerator this would violate ISO 27.5 Subsection 2.” Trolls, unlike humans, divided romantic inclinations into semi-distinct “quadrants.” Matespritship was a romantic love, moirailegiance a platonic one, kismesisitude an erotic mutual rivalry, and auspiticism, which centered on mediating faulty black romances. Trolls connected each quadrant to a suit of cards: hearts, diamonds, spades, and clubs, respectively, though whether they had done so before their contact with the human race remained a mystery no one had the time to solve.

“Rose, please,” said Terezi, turning again. With a swift jab she drove the end of her cane into the smaller woman’s gut, eliciting a stale wheeze as Rose lost her breath again. “You are weak, look at you. Crawling in gutters and engaging in cowardly espionage. You used to be a much more formidable girl, back on Alternia.” Despite Terezi’s nostalgia, Rose had few pleasant memories of the place. She’d been one of the first to traverse the Gate when it was discovered, during her time working for the Interspecies Security Taskforce as an investigator for hire. InterSec was and always had been a for-profit operation, if one that served the best interests of the station society at large. Rose had figured her talents and conscience could be put to good use in the division responsible for the investigation of crimes committed by one species against the others. She had been a liaison to the troll complement to Intersec, the aptly named “Legislacerators.” Her idealism had lasted all of a week.

“Is there a point to this interrogation?” she sighed. “Much as being trussed up in the style of a distraught damsel arouses my desire to reminisce over our terrible history, perhaps I could suggest that I have other places to be?”

“Not so fast!” Terezi began to pace again, her thin boots tapping on the stone floor beside the makeshift gallows. “You are brought here to stand against the charge of affiliation with or operation of an organized crime syndicate.” Her cane came down with crushing force, both hands squarely atop it in righteous valor. “How do you plead?”

“Objection. Double jeopardy. The defendant has already been tried for this offense. And found innocent.” 

“Overruled in the face of overwhelming evidence! The defendant has abandoned her calling to serve the law and has been seen skulking in the shadows consorting with the criminal element.” Rose could see if she strained a small disturbance in the corner of her interrogator’s glasses. She was running a side conversation, but with who?

“I have ‘abandoned’ my calling, as the court alleges, because the way I was doing things had ceased to function. You may not think so, but I do still try. They don't fear the law anymore, not with the Cosa Oscura running the show. Scandal, that's what the tyrants flinch at. I just have to get enough people to see the light, to understand their natures like I do.” Terezi was already shaking her head.

“Not like that Rose. You were seeing clearly before.” The troll heaved a large breath, easing down onto her bench again. “They corrupted you though, made you a mockery of the proud threshecutioner for justice you should have been!”

“I was never any such thing, as you should know. There’s nothing extraordinary about me.”

Her eyes narrowed behind the glasses. “Did you not once tell me, in confidence, that your parents engaged in a secret government project to create a child without flaw?”

“Yes, Terezi. I also dropped several pointed hints to the effect that I was a witch, if you recall. And you ambushed me in the shower block for “emergency preparedness training,” and I burned everything you owned that was red because you told me that it was your favorite color and flavor simultaneously. I was seventeen, you were eight solar sweeps. Isn’t it time you left that childishness behind you?”

Terezi stood again, a monarch descending from her dais. Her slender lips, expressive as always, were drawn together in firm denial. “Or perhaps, it is time to leave you behind.” Striding past Rose, she planted a hand on the wood planks and leapt onto the platform next to her. A lever protruded at the midpoint of the platform’s eastern edge. “Rose Lalonde, I hearby find you guilty of conspiracy with the Midnight Crew, a crime against the good of your own society and the proud survivors of Alternia. The punishment for these crimes—” 

“I shall be spared, which is why you went to all this trouble in the first place.” Rose could hardly contain the venom in her words, which seemed rose from an energy she did not imagine her tired body to possess. “You need something from me besides vindication of your personal fantasies. You have clearly been planning this for quite some time.” She stomped on the trapdoor beneath her, tempting fate. “Spit it out. I’m going to decline absolutely, even were it a proposal to resurrect my planet to its former glory, but I might as well hear it.”

“There was no plan, Rose.” Terezi hadn’t moved, but at least her hand was off the lever. “It was always meant to happen this way. I knew it when I saw you there on the docks.”

“And? What did you know?” Terezi lifted a hand to her face, as if to remove her device, but then a quiet chime indicated a transmission. Rose couldn’t move her hands, but did have codes set up for this eventuality. She activated her hubtop via the headband.

\-- grinningCarabinieri [GC] has sent thornedTreatise [TT] a link --  
TT: If you expect the Intergalactic Poker Championship on Derse to be news to me, you may wish to reflect on my current occupation.  
TT: As a matter of fact I’ve been planning to run a piece on the rampant fraud and swindling going on in this so-called tournament.  
GC: YOUR 4TT3MPTS TO 4PP34R SOPH1ST1C4T3D 4ND 4BOV3 4LL TH1S W1LL B3 SO MUCH MOR3 4MUS1NG ONC3 YOU R34D TH3 L1ST OF R3G1ST3R3D CONT3ST4NTS  
TT: Vriska Serket.  
GC: TH3R3 W3 GO >:]

“How in all the possible universes—” Rose noticed that Terezi did not even appear to be listening. So indeed. Two simultaneous conversations.

TT: How in all the possible universes of a paradox-ridden galactic cluster-fuck does Vriska Serket afford a Boonbond buy-in?  
TT: In case this is not abundantly clear, this would be the first piece of useful information I have ever suspected you of possessing.  
TT: I would tell you not to disappoint, were it not equally transparent that this was your entire reason for pulling this lead-paint-licking-awful scheme in the first place.  
GC: 3L3M3NT4RY MY D34R L4LOND3  
GC: SH3 STOL3 1T  
GC: 4PP4R3NTLY TH3 GROUP SH3 H1T C4LLS TH3MS3LV3S TH3 M1DN1GHT CR3W 4 N4M3 1 HOP3 YOU W1LL 4LSO F1ND F4M1L14R  
TT: Of course. She’s setting up a race war betting human mob money in a troll-controlled casino. If it were any more classic Vriska the chips would have little pictures of spiders on them.  
TT: And we’re going to stop her.  
TT: Might want to avoid telling the casino staff about the part where you can smell color.  
TT: Wait, how do you afford the buy-in, for that matter  
GC: 1M W3LL CONN3CT3D 1N TH3 CORPS ROS3  
GC: 4 SORT OF K1NDR3D SP1R1T H4S D3C1D3D TO 3NTRUST M3 W1TH TH1S D4NG3ROUS T4SK!  
GC: 1 H4V3 4LR34DY S3CUR3D MY 3NTR4NC3 PORT4L CH4RG3 FOR OUR L4ST M4GN1F1C3NT 4DV3NTUR3  
GC: UNFORTUN4T3LY TH3R3 1S NO W4Y 1 C4N B4NKROLL BOTH OF US  
TT: Don’t worry, then. I can get the money.  
TT: I have my resources, and a few "kindred" spirits in high places who owe me hush bonds.  
GC: >:P  
GC: W3LL WH4T DO YOU S4Y M1SS L4V3ND3R D3L1GHT?  
TT: What, indeed, do I say.  
TT: Even now that you have so cleverly denied me the promised chance to turn you down, there is so much that I might say.  
GC: Y34H 1 K1ND OF F1GUR3D  
TT: But to distill it down to the barest essence of my feelings on the subject:  
TT: You had me at “Vriska Serket.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Six of Hearts is sometimes referred to as “Grace’s Card,” alluding to the story of Colonel Richard Grace, who refused to surrender to Willaim of Orange despite the defeat of his ally James II. Grace allegedly penned a defiant note on the back of this card, reading in part, “Tell your lord I despise his offer.” For his pluck he risked execution by being shot or hanged.


	5. Act Two: The Queen of Clubs

04:23 April 12th OEA0013  
Derse: Carapace Homeworld  
“Little Alternia” District

 

“Above all else, strive to not be noticed,” Kanaya said, staring down at her catering staff. Vriska had insisted on an all-troll entourage for her little game. Something one of the prisoners had told her during interrogation perhaps. They were a motley herd of scum, showing as many sets of incomplete horns, eyes, and teeth as she could remember seeing in ill-fitting blue and black vests and dress-slacks. She could barely bring herself to trust them, even without the likelihood of ties to the Crew or the Carapacian Duo-Monarchists. It wouldn’t matter, because Kanaya would be on guard at her moirail’s side for the entire spectacle. Nothing had ever happened on her watch, and nothing ever was going to.

“It’s time to take your positions,” she said, gesturing to the main hall. “Ten minute breaks in staggered shifts after the first two hours. Anyone I observe sampling the refreshments will have the honor of becoming the next course.” She glowered down with naked disgust at the fidgeting, slouching mob. “Any questions?” There came a chorus of muttered affirmations and one, “jadeblood bitch.” Pretending not to have heard, Kanaya made as if to turn away, hand dipping gracefully into the cut of her vermillion dress. As she completed the pivot her feet braced, her arm snapping back in a high arc over the front row of her audience. A blueblood’s hooked right horn clattered to the tiles.

Kanaya paused, clicking off the knife-sized filament saw before clipping it again to her hip. “There are only two things of any importance in this hive.” With a forceful kick she sent the horn spinning into one of the kitchen’s many burnished alchemiter counters, leaving a long cobalt smudge across the floor. “That is not one of them. Now go.” 

The trolls went. That was the solitary redeeming trait about new hires. One got to make examples. She would have to see that the horn found its way to one of the culling squads, later. Letting perfectly good blueblood grist go to waste over petty frustration would be irrational.

The moment the room cleared, Kanaya strode briskly to the nearest mirror and studied the flaws of her likeness. Three hairs, jostled out of place in her tight dark coif, were expeditiously gripped between two fingers and shortened at the end of her saw. Satisfied, she hurried through the swinging double doors to join the preparations, only to jerk to a clumsy stop as she nearly ran into Vriska.

“There you are,” the smaller troll hissed. She had doffed her usual blazer for an archaic overcoat with brilliant blue trim, a foppish hat, and—was that a doublet? With ruffles?

“Miss Serket. The competition is to be commencing in a few hours’ time. I must insist that you change into something presentable this precise instant.”

“Who the fuck cares about presentable?” Vriska snarled. “Right now I gotta win, and that means I have to feel like a winner. And you know what makes me feel like a winner, right Kanaya?” She tugged angrily at one of the ruffles. "Besides, I got ya something extra this week. Aren't I owed this much?"

Massaging her temple with two fingers, more for show than anything, her other hand took Vriska by the shoulder and began to steer her towards the temporary quarters the Syndicate had arranged for participants in the tournament. “As grateful as I remain for your timely deliveries of grist, I would rather you read them yourself. This bizarre role-play only serves to blacken the dynamics of our already muddled quadrant relationship.”

“Oh shut it! It has to be you, you know; it’s whatever happens to your voice when you read them.” Kanaya said nothing, urging her by a group of surprised legislacerator security personnel. “That was an order, jadeblood!” They stopped very suddenly. The legislacerators turned to watch, eager cruelty appearing in their yellow eyes.

“Very well,” Kanaya said at last. Her voice slipped with fatigue. Shifting her weight she brought her right arm to bear and spoke the keyphrase to activate the huskprojector strapped between wrist and elbow. The organic module lay smoothly against her forearm under the sleeves of her dress, but once active it protruded slightly to project images and text steadily in the space in front of her, the projector compensating for her gait and the movement of her arm.

“‘Damn you, Serket,’” she read aloud, skimming, intonation level, “‘When my boys find you there won’t be enough left of you to fill a pail with.’ Huh. Vivid.” She skipped forward to the next entry, “My mother nak nak died because of you, nak nak nak nak, when you nak nak bleeding out I will nak be there.” 

“Booooring! And do they really have to type out the naks? Does that actually mean something to them?”

“If my selection of death threats leaves something to be desired, perhaps you should try to incite frothing rage in a higher class of life form.” 

Vriska pouted, but allowed herself to be led the rest of the way in silence to the door of her temporary quarters. “Please attempt to render yourself in a more professional manner,” Kanaya whispered gently. “And Vriska? Good luck.” 

“Enough with your fussing! I already have all the luck, and I don’t need it. There’s only three things that matter, Maryam: money, skill, and blood! And I got plenty to spare!” The door snapped closed and she was gone. Biting her lip, Kanaya turned and hurried towards the main floor of the casino, heels clacking hollowly in the nearly deserted hallways.

 

* * *

The main floor of the Sunshine casino was a work of engineering to which its proprietor had made many personal contributions. As with any good gambling house on the strip, the machines and tables flanked the path between the door and any other available services and accommodations, culinary or otherwise. The décor was what truly set the establishment apart, featuring cushioned reclining benches in many colors, brilliant white walls and floors a multi-tiered progression of stages leading from the main entrance down to the guest rooms. Thirty-foot windows of colored glass lined the walls, each depicting at its apex a heart, diamond, club, or spade. At key locations beverage alchemiters were set to produce fresh water or sparkling cider upon request, and gilded mirrors hung from pillars in the optimal locations to reflect the light and excitement of the gaming floor.

Currently, the room was an anarchy of movement. Recording crews clambered over ladders and catwalks with microphones and multi-camera holo-taping units. Regulars gawked from the sidelines as the tables in the center stage slowly filled with some of Derse’s most talented, or underhanded, poker players. As she made her way through the bustle exchanging warm greetings, Kanaya could pick out several familiar faces, horns, or snouts. “Diamonds” Droog, a shady human with the disposition of a cholerbear, had managed to turn out, and was currently snarling at the excitable nakodile seated next to him, a newcomer by the moniker of Baron Snek. Droog seemed to take particular offense with his soon-to-be opponent’s hat, a ten-gallon leather affair that looked distressingly out of place on the swamp denizen. 

Kanaya scrolled through the roster on her husk with deliberate slowness, tarrying over contestants whose presence or absence didn’t honestly matter. Did she dare get to L, or would it be better to scroll quickly past it? When Kanaya looked up, there she was, and suddenly it no longer mattered. Rose Lalonde in the flesh at last, devastating in a rich purple dress that pinned with unpretentious elegance over the left shoulder. Before she could organize speeches and introductions, Kanaya was behind her, coughing politely to command attention.

Rose turned unhurriedly and looked took in the troll’s eyes and dress for a moment before speaking. “Kanaya Maryam, if I’m not mistaken. I hope this is nothing I should worry about.”

“Not at all,” Kanaya said, “My purpose was primarily to extend greetings to you and gain your personal assurance that all of our accommodations have been to your satisfaction.”

“You’re tense.” Rose took a polished sip from her beverage container. “Under normal circumstances I would assume that to be my prerogative in this encounter. Why?”

Kanaya could feel her cheeks tingeing faintly jade. “I am actually a covert admirer. Of your published work.” She sat down in an adjacent empty seat. “I have been made aware of your current profession due to the present circumstances, but through serendipitous coincidence I have followed your writing for several sweeps.”

“You have my profound sympathies. The fiction and crime writing aside, I take it you would not be familiar with my ‘other’ work?”

“Apologies.” Kanaya straightened her hem and shifted slightly, aware that the troll on her opposite side was openly staring. “I do not follow.”

“For a second I was afraid that you might. Don’t trouble yourself. If it will help you relax, or at minimum find something to do with your hands, suffice it to say that I’ve made my share of poor choices in my past, not to mention the present. I would change such things if it were possible.”

“Ah. My own attempts at writing are of that same category.” Kanaya took a quick glance over her shoulder on the pretense of checking one of the television crews and caught a flash of bright red glasses. “In complete sincerity, though, if you find yourself in need of anything during your stay here I will be privileged to help you attain it. It would be ideal if to all of my clients I could be like their human lusus. Er, you would say ‘mother,’ correct?”

“We were never close, ” said Rose. Her eyes finally moved from Kanaya’s face, though whether it was a gesture of pain or regret was hard to say. “To be honest, I spent most of life hating the woman.”

“In that case, I must inform you that I have called you here to my resting slab because I have been diagnosed with a horrific and fast-acting terminal illness. The surgeonihilators told me that I may have less than a few perigrees. I do not deserve your forgiveness, and yet…”

“Frighteningly accurate,” Rose said. “It was a meteor that finally got her, though.” Her brows furrowed slightly, but the corners of her mouth twitched in a way that suggested kindness. Kanaya would have staggered for an apology, but at that moment was distracted by a sharp, repeated jabbing to her lower back. She whirled and found the clammy troll’s shining glasses mere inches from her face.

“Would you maybe stop waxing red for my partner for five human seconds?” barked the stranger, peppering nearby objects with spittle. “Jegus.”

“Terezi, your effort to take a human deity’s name in vain is made more amusing by the fact that you have no soul,” Rose said from the opposite direction. “Kanaya Maryam, if I might introduce my traveling companion and constant competitor: Terezi Pyrope.”

“Pyrope,” Kanaya murmured, bringing her list back to visibility. “A legislacerator in a poker championship. Would you be the same Terezi Pyrope having a caliginous history with Vriska?” She felt rather than saw both of the other women tense. “Vriska Serket, another of the contestants,” she finished haltingly.

“You know that list very, very well,” Terezi said, not backing up an inch.

A shrill ping rang out from the module on Kanaya’s arm, and she hastily punched the response node, throwing up a projection of the caller like a screen in front of her.

\-- CaponesToady [CT] began trolling GambligantAscendant [GA] \--

CT: D--> The preparat%ns are complete  
GA: Thank You  
GA: Direct The Assorted Catering Staff To the Second Tier Entrance  
GA: Send Armed Search Parties To Locate Vriska Serket And The Carapace Calling Itself Heinous Bootlegger  
CT: D--> Your orders have been anticipated and carried out  
CT: D--> Mistress Serket has already been secured  
GA: Good  
GA: Are There Any Deficiencies I Should Be Aware Of?  
CT: D--> The beverage fountains and miniature serving stations remain well stocked despite the 100dicrous influ% of patrons  
CT: D--> The staff lounge may require more towels  
GA: All Right  
GA: I Will Open Further Contact With You Shortly

\-- GambligantAscendant [GA] ceased trolling CaponesToady [CT] \--

 

“If you will excuse me,” Kanaya said, standing and sliding a stray trail of appetizer crumbs to the floor with a sweep of her finger. “Rest assured that I will be monitoring your progress with great interest.” She extended a hand to Rose, who acknowledged her with a firm shake, before turning to descend towards the lowest tier of the casino floor.

“Let the games begin.”


	6. =>

The floor of the Sunshine during the tournament was a stark contrast to the vibrant spectacle it had presented that morning. The lights were dimmed to a subtle whisper of illumination, allowing the sinister skies of the black Carapace homeworld to have their way with the room. Only the center tables were well illuminated, eight islands of light in an ocean of shadows.

Kanaya strode slowly between the tables, making careful circuits so as to catch as much of the action as possible while appearing on the fewest recordings. Vriska was at the top of her game, perched like a masquerading predator amongst a pack of innocent woolbeasts. Innocent, hard-drinking woolbeasts with expensive tobacco. As she passed, Vriska went all in on the flop, cackling wildly as the other players grudgingly folded. They knew better, by now, than to dare assume she was bluffing.

Rose, meanwhile, was not faring so spectacularly. She played tight, never glancing at her cards after they were dealt, often folding or refusing to raise. Kanaya observed her spend the entire hand staring at the dealer, a legislacerator with pince-nez spectacles and slightly protruding fangs. Even on Derse, the use of legislacerators to run the individual games was average for the verdant putting-sport field, given their reputation for incorruptibility and tendency to string up ambitious competitors who proffered them bribes.

On her next lap of the room, however, the table had transformed into a study in tension. Three bidders remained, with Rose calling each and every raise, Lou Durmond, a longtime fixture at the Sunshine, went all in holding pocket aces. The second, a rare white carapace, promptly folded. Rose’s cards remained flat on the table, inscrutable as her countenance. She called. When the showdown came, Lou exposed his three of a kind and reached for the chips, only to lose the color in his face when Rose calmly turned over just one of her cards. The pile in front of her was suddenly more substantial. Without fuss, Rose stood and signaled the dealer to ante her off—to continue paying blinds and antes while absent from the table. With grim purpose, she threaded her way to the edge of the scene where Kanaya was watching.

“Walk with me,” she said.

They continued for a moment in silence. Rose’s eyes darted from table to table, drinking in the contours of grimaces, the twitching of fingers. Out of the light, her behavior was far less erratic and more obviously diligent.

“Learning your future opponent’s tell,” said Kanaya quietly. “A useful skill for a poker player.”

“Or a criminologist. I find that term somewhat lacking, however.” She paused, watching as Vriska devoured another pile of chips. “Truthfully, I am not discerning whether my opponents are going to bet or fold, but rather what they wish for me to do. With all the focus on the former, the latter is often more transparent.” Their path had by this point taken them up the short set of stairs to the balcony of the second tier. Rose leaned against the railing, gazing with a distant longing at the circles of light they had left behind.

“Have you ever played chess, Mrs. Maryam?” She asked.

“That would be Ms. by human custom, I believe. Regrettably, as a proprietor of games of chance, I have never had the occasion.”

“It is a much more human game than poker. Humans, you must know, like to believe that every decision they make is of the utmost importance, that their victory or defeat in life’s great game is somehow up to them. It is also a militaristic euphemism for intellectual dominance, but as a troll, I doubt I have to remind you how either species feels about that.”

“I get the distinct sensation that your topic is somehow going to return to cards,” Kanaya said. “If human chess is an exercise in monochromatic tacticians with oddly shaped head garments, I would guess that poker is more the domain of unseen cosmic forces. You cannot change the grouping of cards that you are dealt, perhaps? I assume you were going to come by some complex explanation to our system of romantic quadrants.”

“Indeed. Your diamonds, spades, etc. etc. The finer points of which make even my keen understanding adopt the most ingratiating posture of surrender imaginable.” Rose turned from the game for a second to shoot her a quick grin. “Though I do not doubt that with an instructor such as yourself I could learn a few things. For instance, about your relationship with her.” There was really no question as to who was being referred to.

“Ah,” Kanaya said briefly. The warm feeling that had been developing in her upper nutrient processing tract was now stiff and glistening with the first hints of winter frost. “Clearly the nature of our game is now changing. I hope it would not be tipping my own hand too much to suggest that I am aware of your reasons for coming here.”

“And yet you have made no move to stop us.”

“I see no cause to contemplate such a thing.” Her fingernails drummed a slow cadence on the railing edge. “It does not seem probable that my doing so would change what is about to happen.”

“While I’m glad that you have such esteem for my decisions, may I remind you that she is dangerous? Not just to myself or to my station, even Derse. Even—no, especially to you.”

Rose was still facing away from her, and Kanaya stepped closer to take a place by her side. “Dangerous people still have a part to play in the grand scheme of things.”

The woman’s eyes remained locked to Vriska’s table. “Ask yourself, Kanaya. When was the last time you tried to stop her? If you were where she is right now, would she save you?” For a while, neither of them said anything more, a silence broken only by a metallic ring from the husk projector.

“My apologies, Ms. Lalonde. I see now that our previous fraternization has created the impression of a familiarity between us that does not in fact exist. I would advise you to return to your table, as your questionable poker abilities are about to run you out of betting tokens.”

“You’re quite right, of course.” Rose deftly stepped behind her and began to make her way down the steps. “I somehow doubt, though, that you would be much of a poker player yourself. Good luck, Ms. Maryam.”

Within a couple more hands, the headcount at Rose’s table reduced by half. Vriska was already on her third, the remaining players from the other games having now been divided to fill seats more evenly. Checking the status feed on her husk, Kanaya positioned herself against the railing where Rose had once stood. Glancing about to ensure that no one was observing, she took a deep breath and sent out the silent order to begin the next phase of the operation. 

Throughout the evening, the trolls that had made such an unpleasant event of her morning were tasked with delivering drinks and appetizers to the spectators and the players themselves. A few chose not to partake—this was Derse, after all, for all that the event was heavily monitored by human and troll authorities. It didn’t matter, the toxin in this case was not in the food. It was in the towels that they used to wipe their sweating brows, or the tissues provided in case of a dripping scent cavity or other olfactory orifice. The napkin with which Rose dabbed at the corners of her mouth after taking another long sip from her apple-based alcoholic beverage. As she made her way towards the small cluster of remaining seats, she felt the vibrations through her body, the welcome almost comforting siren’s call that she had come to take pleasure from.

_ All in _

In short order the cry came again. The light above one of the final three tables died, unshriven. Kanaya’s lips drew back in a giddy smile, exposing for once her full range of delicate, murderous incisors. Things were about to get remarkable.


	7. =>

Rose was seated, nearly alone, surveying the faces of the fallen about her. Baron Snek, who had made the fatal mistake of pulling the same bluff twice. He might as well have been admiring the two wheel device designs on the back of his hand. Lou Durmond was still among the audience, his attempt to buy back into the game a tragic and short-lived one. When Vriska strode up to the table, putting her boot to a chair and falling theatrically into it, Rose finally showed a hint of feeling. It was a small smile, and disappeared just as quickly, but to Kanaya it bespoke the immense satisfaction of a woman who has fought against earth and heaven and stands at the threshold of the afterlife. It is the smile the Raven would give, having stolen away the sun. Vriska, once she had finally been retrieved from her chamber, was dressed to the nines in a midnight colored gown with trailing sleeves and elaborate silver threading throughout the fabric. Her hair glinted astrally in the lamplight, at last tamed and brought together with a small tie at her lower back. Not content to watch a round without her in it, she tossed a stack of chips in the dealer’s direction, buying the button.

“Sorry I’m late,” she said, to no one in particular. The serving trolls wheeled a cart in behind her, carrying the totality of her winnings thus far. No one else spoke. Now that the game was concentrated in two central locations, Kanaya decided to move closer. She was certain now that Rose was unlikely to attack directly, but the other gangs, of whom there were still more than a few representatives playing, were less of a known variable.

The first hand was over quickly. A pair of Kings showed themselves on the turn, with Vriska making a moderate gain off Diamonds Droog. The following round took off with a mediocre start with few outs for anyone, but Rose managed to capitalize on a low pair and run up the stake with a series of well timed raises. Both women were circling each other, neither ready to make the first strike.

All too suddenly, it was over. Rose cold-called to Vriska’s raise, increasing the bet to over 50,000 boonbucks. Kanaya couldn’t tell if Rose was bluffing, but Vriska was not. Vriska called at the river card, and for the first time that evening Rose hesitated.

_ All 8n! _

Behind her the dealer cleared his throat respectfully and brought out his stopwatch

_ ALL 8N!!!!!!!! _

“All in,” Rose said.
    
    
    *	*	*

It should not have surprised Kanaya that Rose bought back into the game, but somehow the look on her face when she realized what she had done appeared so utterly vanquished as to inspire hope of an easy victory. As Kanaya was coming to appreciate, nothing with Rose was so painless.

Vriska for her part thought she was at a table for two, barely registering when Droog pulled a surprise last second Royal Flush and took her for 200,000 boonbucks. Whenever Rose was at the table, her hands hovered impatiently over the chips, ready to splash the table to the dealer’s evident vexation. Time and again Rose milked the players around her, only to lose it all to Vriska in another table-sweeping game of cluckbeast.

“You ever plan to quit?” Vriska asked her during a brief lull in the slaughter.

“Quit? That would make for exceedingly poor television.” Rose sighed, and scooped a stack of fresh chips into play with the palm of her hand. “I’m afraid that we’re in this for the long haul.”

Thought the monotony did not appear to phase her, Droog was evidently a creature of less god-like patience. His deadly calm playing style gave way to something more ferocious, taking even Rose by surprise. The moment he showed a hint of caution, however, Vriska winked at him, and like so many before him, he bet the pot. 

“You will come to regret this,” Droog said coolly, as Vriska finished raking in his chips. “You’ve trifled with the wrong people this time.”

“Awww,” crooned Vriska, pantomiming tears, “You can always make more! Just be sure to let me know when, cuz I’d be glad to to take it from you all over again, Crew boy.”

A hushed mutter came from the crowd. “What did you call me?” Droog asked. His eyes swished back and forth under his stylish bowler, eyeing possible exits.

“I said you always spend your evenings where there’s women wine and song, ya follow me? Hey, here’s a good one, why don’t you go tell your-”

She never got to finish. With a snap of his fingers Droog leapt streetwards and hit the stairs at full tilt. Kanaya was a fraction of a second from making pursuit when a movement from the corner of her eye made her hesitate. As Vriska stood to admire her fleeing adversary, the dealer, stoic throughout the confrontation, wrapped an arm around her neck. His other arm whipped up to reveal a strife specibus, a specialized alchemiter primarily used in warfare, from which could extrude any number of blades, firearms, or some manner of highly specialized bludgeoning apparatus. If he ever got a chance to use it.

Kanaya’s feet touched solid ground approximately three times in the seconds that it took her to clear the distance: once on the railing of the first tier balcony, the second on the cranial covering of some poor carapace unfortunate enough to find itself in her path, and the third at the edge of the table where Rose was in the process of scrambling to her feet. When time seemed to flow at a normal pace, she found one set of claws tangled in the teal-matted hair of the former assassin. The other was tightly affixed to the collar of Vriska’s dress, who was half on the floor in a fit of gasping, her legs still tangled in her chair.

“We are adjourned for the evening,” Kanaya said simply, her voice echoing through the hall with the aid of her armband control system. She dropped the ball of brain matter and bone to the floor. Grist be damned, that was going to be incinerated. “This tournament will resume precisely one day advanced, after appropriate adjustments to security.”

“But-!” Vriska whined, entirely the petulant wriggler.

She looked down into her moirail’s eyes, so wide and unafraid, even painted with the blood of her would be murderer. There was not a standardized liquid measuring unit of pity in her glance. “Be thankful that I am choosing to delay only this briefly,” she said. With that, Kanaya carried her off into the darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ‘As Queens, they are aware of their place in society (the "royal court"), and resist change in character. As the Three of Hearts is its displaced card, The Queen of Clubs represents "indecision about love and friendship" and means its is hard for them to find success in these areas. The card is also known as the "Mother Mary" as many of have children who they are forced to make sacrifices for.’ – Robert Lee Camp, The Book of Destiny


	8. Act Three: The Eight of Diamonds

\-- thornedTreatise [TT] began pestering grinningCarabinieri [GC] \--

TT: That went well.  
GC: Y3S TH4TS WH4T YOU S41D FOUR BUY-1NS 4GO >:P  
GC: 1N C4S3 YOU W3R3 WOND3R1NG D3T3CT1V3 TH1S 1S NOT TH3 HUM4N JUST1C3 SYST3M  
GC: 1T 1S 4 C4S1NO  
GC: TH3Y H4V3 NOT H34RD OF TH3 1NS4N1TY PL34  
TT: That would have to be the singular point at which I agree with the Alternian court: that insanity should be less of a plea than a pointed warning to any jurors with loved ones in town.  
TT: But I did not say the situation was progressing perfectly, simply well.  
TT: I said this because the entire infrastructure of this establishment and this tournament was just exposed to a healthy infusion of chaos. This works to my favor.  
GC: 1N ROS3-SP34K 1 4M SUR3 TH4T 3XPL41NS WHY YOU K33P B3TT1NG YOUR POT ON 4 P41R OF TWOS  
TT: I keep losing, as you would have it, because Vriska planned it that way. Now her plan is in a state of disrepair, which I intend to take advantage of.  
TT: I, on the other hand, am not planning.  
TT: I simply examine the cards that are dealt to me and follow the most auspicious course of action.  
TT: Both literally and metaphorically speaking of course.  
GC: SO WH4T NOW B1G SP3ND3R?  
GC: WH4T NOW?  
TT: Unfortunately at this point while I have financial reserves, I haven’t the credit to draw from them.  
TT: For the final round, I’ll simply have to play your chips.  
GC: NOT 4 CH4NC3 1N 4NY OF YOUR 34RTH H3LLS >:[  
TT: Terezi, you have not survived in the game this long by luck or skill.  
TT: You weren’t even at our table.  
TT: It is because she does not see you as a credible threat.  
GC: TH3N SH3 WONT S33 M3 COM1NG  
TT: Actually, given your personal history I do not doubt that you will be one of the last players standing.  
TT: Make no mistake, you will make a poor decision whenever she feels it convenient. You will not know why.  
GC: 4ND YOU WOULD?  
TT: Such disdain for my powers of deduction. Even you could puzzle it out given the chance.  
TT: Giving you a chance is not a thing that I am doing, but this is merely a fact that I am stating for the record.  
GC: NO  
GC: NO NO NO NO  
GC: FUCK YOU  
GC: YOUR3 D3SPR4T3 4ND YOUR3 BLUFF1NG  
GC: P1TY 1T WORKS 4BOUT 4S W3LL 4S M3 4S ON VR1SK4 >:]  
TT: Enlighten me.  
GC: S1MPL3  
GC: 1 W1N  
GC: 3V3N 1F VR1SK4 SOM3HOW DO3S B34T M3 1V3 4LR34DY GOT YOU  
GC: 4LL TH1S MON3Y YOU W1R3 1N  
GC: WH3R3V3R DO3S 1T COM3 FROM? WHO 1S W41T1NG TO B3 P41D W1TH 1NT3R3ST?  
GC: F4SC1N4T1NG QU3ST1ONS TH4T 1M SUR3 YOULL B3 DY1NG TO 4NSW3R 1N 3XCH4NG3 FOR POL1C3 PROT3CT1ON  
TT: Knight forks opponent’s queen and own bishop. Brilliant play, Kasparov. I genuinely didn’t think you had it in you.  
TT: But I’m afraid you’re forgetting one thing. If you’re wrong about me, or you fail to prove it— the Legislacerators want their money back too. You take the fall.  
GC: YOUR PO1NT B31NG? >: /  
TT: That I have something to trade: your success for my revenge.  
\-- thornedTreatise [TT] sent grinningCarabinieri [GC] the file “invstmtfgs01/12” --  
\-- thornedTreatise [TT] sent grinningCarabinieri [GC] the file “invstmtfgs05/09” --  
\-- thornedTreatise [TT] sent grinningCarabinieri [GC] the file “portfolio07/10” --  
GC: WH4TS 4LL TH1S?  
TT: Insider trading, mostly. A bit of embezzling, boonbuck laundering—I would list out the technical details, but I hardly want to ruin all the surprises.  
TT: Enough for your friends upstairs to take me for all I’m worth, certainly, as thanks for their sponsoring you, and giving me the chance at Vriska.  
TT: Unfortunately for your disturbing obsession, that’s all they’re going to find.  
TT: I’m sorry I had to do this to you Terezi, but the curtain’s up. There are no mobsters, no magic, no deals with Old Scratch for my soul.  
TT: There are no heroic sentinels of justice or secret double agents, just a bitter angry woman exploiting the diseased social organism to survive.  
TT: This is how I succeed in the world, Terezi.  
TT: More importantly, it’s why you don’t.  
GC: H4 H4  
GC: H4 H4 H4 H4 H4 H4 H4 H4!!!!!!  
GC: Y3S ROS3 YOU 4R3 DO1NG SO W3LL W1TH YOUR BOR1NG STUP1D CR1M3S 4ND YOUR B4N4L SYST3M1C CORRUPT1ON  
GC: BUT 1 4M NOT H3LP1NG YOU! >:[  
GC: 1 N3V3R ONC3 4GR33D TO UPHOLD 4NY SORT OF D34L W1TH YOU  
GC: DO YOU OFT3N 3XP3CT TO W1N BY SHOW1NG YOUR H4ND?  
GC: SO 1 4SK YOU 4G41N ROS3  
GC: WH4T NOW? >:]  
TT: Valid point, except for two things. First, that you want to see Vriska go down almost as dearly as I do.  
TT: And second, that unless you have managed to deconstruct the workings of her stratagem in the time you were gloating, this is something you cannot accomplish, which I can.  
TT: Now, Terezi Pyrope, I am going to do something that I never in the entire duration of our acquaintance wanted to do.  
TT: I am going to trust you.

 

\-- thornedTreatise [TT] has blocked grinningCarabinieri [GC] \--

The hubtop fell mercifully dark and silent as Rose pocketed the batteries. For all the ways there were around firewalls and passwords, it was something more difficult to pick a lock that refused to be there. Without the slight sapphire halo she was almost blind, not that the darkness would mean anything to the security cameras. The dark wig, face paint, and the maid’s uniform borrowed from the low security staff room would half to do the trick if she managed not to trip over her own heels. Fortunately for Rose, she had no locks to pick. All she had to do was knock.

Much to her credit, Vriska controlled her expression when the door slid open. She was out of her costume by this point, draped only in an uncharacteristically simple white satin nightdress and worn combat boots. A lipstick-stained cigarette protruded from one corner of her fanged mouth. Her pupils skittered up and down once, taking in the spectacle of a grey-painted human before she welcomed Rose inside with a nod.

The room was extravagantly furnished, even by the standards of a much better hotel, one not located on Derse, nor intended to funnel occupants out through the gauntlet of slot machines. What parts of the floor weren’t polluted with costly furniture contained a walking hazard of broken bottles and discarded fast-food containers. A multi-screen pane of high-definition monitors presided over one wall, the entire array a multifaceted viewport to the newsweb. On one of the lower left screens a video was running on mute; a woman strolling through a crowd in front of a Dersian cathedral was abruptly set upon by waist-high vermillion creatures and torn to bloody ribbons. At the end of the sequence, with the victim’s arm raised in helpless protest, the clip repeated.

Rose sat in one of the unsuitably large recliners, facing the screens. Settling in, she let her fingers absorb the texture. “Leather?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Human,” said Vriska. She was still standing at the door, as if waiting for more guests to appear.

“Milkbeast. Human leather is tougher and more brittle, with more similarities to pigskin.”

The troll grunted in response, crunching her way over to the blue four-poster, onto which she slumped expectantly. “So what’re you then?” Vriska said, “Spoils of war?”

“This may work a little differently on Alternia, but if I’m not mistaken you’d have to win first.” Rose crossed her legs and sat back. “As of tomorrow, I’ll still be in the running.”

“Yeah, figured you wouldn’t know when to quit.” Jumping abruptly to her feet, Vriska began to pace slowly around the room. Her shoulders shook slightly even as she walked, as if she were chilled, or crying imperceptibly. “Cigarette?” she said at last, stopping to pry a pack from amidst the heap. 

“Do I strike you as someone who smokes?” A ring of gravel-flavored ash in her face served as a reply. Rose concentrated on her tension in her shoulders and hands, willing herself to relax. As Vriska circled restlessly behind her she began to remove the wig and horns, then the false claws on each of her fingers. It would be best to be out of here soon to avoid undue suspicion, and she made mental note of how long her transformation was taking. “You’ve been doing quite well in this tournament,” she said politely. “I’m sure it’s been a while since the networks have seen a lucky streak quite this implausible.”

“Yeah, I’m a pretty big deal. I got all the luck, you know? You’re around me, I get all the breaks you oughta get.” She flashed another predator grin. “That’s why I’m especially lucky to see you here. You’ve gotta be the luckiest person I know.”

Rose nodded. “I, too, consider myself fortunate. I finally have a chance to speak with you, woman to woman as it were. Outside of a crack den or interrogation room, of course.”

“Oh bravo detective. Unlike some of you humans, I’m not gonna let my past tell me what I have to do.” Rose could feel the troll’s eyes probing her from behind, trying to find a weakness. “Hey, what’s that? A bit gaudy for a maid, don’t you think?” Vriska’s hand drifted down into Rose’s field of view, reaching for the chain hanging around her neck. At the end of it was a ring, pale silver, with four pearls mounted awkwardly around its circumference.

“It belonged to someone very important to me,” Rose said tonelessly. “Is my choice of jewelry really the most stimulating topic of conversation you could come up with?”

“Ohh, I see how it is.” Vriska now leaned over the back of the chair, cupping Rose’s chin and neck with one hand. “This is all about that stupid boy, isn’t it? Your old matesprit? This is just too, too precious.” When she laughed, it was like a child’s laugh, a boy throwing stones at frogs. “Little detective Lalonde playing poker with the big girls to get her sweet revenge.” Her other hand found its way into Rose’s hair, massaging the top of her scalp with steel nails. “Why don’t we make this game a little sweeter, yeah? If I beat you tomorrow, you give up your last little precious keepsake there. Who knows? If you stop clinging to dead idiots like that, it might even make you stronger!”

“And in return,” said Rose, “what do I get if I win?”

“You get what you want, of course, ” Vriska sneered. “You avenge him, right? Do you want to know what he told me, before you came to ‘rescue’ him? Before your friend blew his thinkpan over the floor?”

“We’re not here to kill you, Serket,” Rose said faintly. “I respect you far too much for that.”

“Nah, you’re just gonna beat me at cards, right? See what happens when my bosses get fed up and I don’t have the money to buy them off, am I getting warmer? But oh no, looks like you’ve tried that one already, and it keeps on failing, on account of what a pathetic loser you are.” The fingers on Rose’s throat tightened. “I guess you think this time you’re going to get lucky.”

“I suppose the question I really should be asking is why? What makes you want to do this?”

“Becaaauuuse it matters. Because you know no matter which of these dipshits hits the trigger first, it’ll be me behind there pulling it with them. I started this. And if there’s anyone left to write history books, which I’m entirely sure there will be, by the way, it’s gonna be my name in them.”

“Yes,” Rose said, thoughtfully, “right there next to Hitler and Guy Fieri.”

“I meant as a hero!” Vriska’s tone had risen to a new passion, humming with self-gratification. “I’m only doing what you want, Lalonde! What your entire nook-sucking species wants. I remember when we were playing your stupid cops and robbuglars game in the slums. You want me to murder, and steal, and lie, because you’re human and I’m a troll. Because it gives a name to all the nightmares you don’t know how else to fight. And I will! But better than that, guess what? I’m going to save you all.” Slowly, three droplets of blood formed around her fingernails and began to pool in the hollow of Rose’s throat. Both of them pretended not to notice. 

“The humans have their dead planet,” Vriska continued, “the trolls have our cullings. But it isn’t enough, is it? We all treat fucking exponential growth like it’s some kind of prize. Do you know how many culls it takes to run this place for one day? Well I do. I got to. I’m the only one willing to do what’s good and right, you know? Why shouldn’t I get all the credit?” 

“Vriska. Do you actually believe in luck?” The hands retreated. 

“God,” said Vriska. “You don’t know when to shut up.”

“How about in magic?”

There was a pause as Vriska stepped back around the chair, more bottles dying under her boots, till the two were face to face. “You wanna see some magic? I’ll show you some magic.” 

_Sh8t up. Don’t. M8ve._

There was a tightening all through her body—threads woven through her skin, imperceptible until now, drawing taut all at once. The lines of blood down her throat burned like candle wax. She could feel the ropy threads twining about the tendons in her wrist, drawing her ankle against the hard edge of the chair’s underside. The certainty that she could not move, the fact of her immobility, was a physical presence bulging out the corners of her mind, crushing rational thought. Vriska leaned forward into her face, teeth and eyes expanding as she blew another cloud of ash and smog, blotting out all vision. Rose was stuck, enveloped by a web of her brain’s own invention.

  
_ Time to pay ::::) _   



	9. =>

She could feel pain. She was blind; she had always been blind. Just as she had always been mute, invalid, human refuse. But she could hear Vriska, and hearing Vriska was agony. Vriska’s touch, a peck on the forehead, a hand on her throat, was like releasing a pinched nerve just under her skin, one for every fingerstroke. Then Vriska was gone, but the agony crescendoed without her. The torture crept down the sides of her neck, down her arms and into her palms. In a time long since gone, when her mother had convinced herself of the need to occasionally pretend to bond with her daughter for the sake of appearances, she had taken her to see the railroad. It was the last one on earth, she said, the last real one, with a train that ran on real coal. She had imagined building one of her own, later, when they were all truly gone. Connecting the terrain between freeways by a means of transport so antiquated as to be mystical. 

They were building a railroad now, inside of her, driving home spikes deep into her collarbone, her breasts, her heart. They stopped at the place where her ribcage came together. There the track took a turn and lept from her chest, spiraling into the skies above. She was connected to something up there, something made from all the places in her body that were now connected by that track. In the darkness of the heavens, she found Rose. And Rose looked down upon the thing that she was, stitched together with iron and timbers, and saw that it was good.

“Let there be Light,” said Rose. And there was Light.

* * *  
It was quite an interval between the moment Rose opened her eyes and the point at which she could properly distinguish her fingers one from another. She could tell that Vriska was sitting beside her, leaning against the chair. The troll said nothing. Perhaps she had drifted off. Rose would certainly have preferred to think so. At any rate, she made no move as Rose replaced whatever she could find of her disguise and fled the chamber. Her eyeballs felt like sandpaper, her head was still a patchwork of several different migraines. No time to rest, though. Time to find an alchemiter, and to make one last important call.

\-- thornedTreatise [TT] began pestering grinningCarabinieri [GC] \--  
  
TT: Independent research group seeking highblooded troll participants for a clinical study. Must be at least teal caste and possess a sight disability not serious enough to result in culling.   
GC: DO YOU H4V3 4NY 1D34 WH4T T1M3 1T 1S?  
GC: 1 THOUGHT YOU H4D 4 B1G G4M3 TO W1N TOMORROW  
TT: Ah, so you are taking me up on my offer after all.  
GC: THOUGH 1M C3RT41N 1 W1LL R3GR3T 1T Y3S  
GC: 1 S3NT TH3 F1L3S YOU G4V3 M3 TO MY SUP3R1ORS  
GC: YOU W3R3 4BSOLUT3LY R1GHT >:[  
TT: Pity, I hoped you might be able to control your urges a little longer than that.  
TT: I would’ve fancied the prospect of returning to my normal life after this. It would have made everything much easier.  
TT: Perhaps we were never really meant to get along.  
TT: I take it at the very least you’ve considered what I said about your own chances at victory.  
GC: YOU M4Y NOT H4V3 B33N K33P1NG UP W1TH TH3 N3WS WH3R3V3R YOU 4R3 BUT TH3R3 H4S B33N 4 M4JOR 1NCR34S3 OF G4NG V1OL3NC3  
GC: R1GHT NOW STOPP1NG VR1SK4 M4Y M34N D3FUS1NG 4 L4RG3 SC4L3 CONFL1CT  
GC: WH3R3 H4V3 YOU B33N 4CTU4LLY?  
TT: Paying a visit to a dear old friend.  
GC: W41T NO >:O  
GC: T3LL M3 YOU 4R3 NOT 1N HUM4N LOV3 W1TH TH4T B4CKST4BB1NG L4WBR34K3R  
GC: YOU 4R3 NOT JOHN  
GC: YOU KNOW WH4T SH3 1S!!!  
TT: Your quickness to assume the worst of my species in noted, but no.  
TT: Even taking racial differences into consideration, I would have hoped you would realize that what happened to John wasn’t “love.”  
GC: H3 TR13D TO K1LL YOU FOR H3R  
GC: WH4T WOULD YOU C4LL TH4T?  
TT: I understand the sort of devotion you think you are describing. But while I might spell it “l-o-v-e,” and you might spell it “matesprits,” Vriska would most assuredly spell it “scopolamine.”  
  
\-- thornedTreatise [TT] has ceased pestering grinningCarabinieri [GC] \--  
  
GC: ROS3?!  
  
\-- thornedTreatise [TT] began pestering grinningCarabinieri [GC] \--  
  
TT: I just have one last question for you, though it may seem somewhat peculiar under the circumstances.  
TT: Trolls, and particularly highblooded ones, have an affinity for lightless or deep-sea environments. Do trolls possess some degree of echolocation?  
GC: 3XC3LL3NT D3DUCT1ON   
GC: THOUGH L1K3 SOM3 HUM4N TR41TS 1T 1S MUCH L3SS 3FF3CT1V3 TH4N 1T PROB4BLY W4S THOUS4NDS OF SW33PS 4GO  
TT: Thus your reliance on a human developed sensory augmentation device.  
TT: Thank you Terezi. You have been most helpful.  
GC: >:[ R4TS  
GC: 1S TH1S 4BOUT VR1SK4? WH4TS SCOPOL4M1N3?  
GC: 1T SOUNDS D3L1C1OUS  
TT: Not actually so much about her, and more about you, in this case.   
TT: As for Vriska, let us merely say that I am going to show her a magic trick.  
GC: BUT YOU TH1NK M4G1C 1S FOR GUL1BL3 CHUMPS 4ND WR1GGL3RS  
TT: Ah, but Vriska doesn’t think so.  
TT: Let’s consider this to be her first lesson.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Diamonds are the suit most associated with money, fortune, and the “good life.” In the classic Italian tarot deck, they are rendered as Wands, tied to ideas/plans, ingenuity, and the element of Fire. A reading featuring the Eight of Wands can signify an overabundant pileup of plans or schemes all running at once; conversely, it can be interpreted as a productive streak and a sign to “strike while the iron is hot.”


	10. Act Four: The Queen of Spades

14:23 April 13th  
OEA0013  
Sunshine Casino  
Main Lounge

 

There was no such thing as a bright morning on Derse, but if possible the clouds that roiled above the skylights in the casino’s main lounge smelled even more of irate voltage than was the previous evening. To Terezi’s sensitive palate, however, the storm outside paled in comparison to the pressure building on the floor of the Sunshine. The vibrant crowds of the tournament the night before were gone, no doubt spooked by the sudden reminder of what was truly going on at this game.

The spectators that remained held to no such illusions. On one side of the rail an assembly of grim, dark-suited humans with creased faces stared with gimlet eyes at the phallanx of trolls across the hall. By the faint pervasive scent of gunpowder and dried blood, the number of unarmed audience members could be counted on the claws of one hand.

Once again Rose and Vriska sat at attention across from each other at one of the oblong green tables, almost close enough to touch. With Droog now permanently out of the running, the table sat only five players, the two adversaries, an oliveblood troll, and a pair of perpetually leering humans who smelled of the same cheap aftershave. Clouds of cigar smoke swam in the humid air, almost ruining the effect of the painstakingly cheery décor. No one was moving yet, as the holofilm crews continued to set up, so Terezi grabbed the chance, as she had done so many times the past few months, to consult her inside source.

\-- neotypeRegulator [NR] began pestering grinningCarabinieri [GC] \--

NR: T3r3zi. 1 hop3 you 4r3 pr3p4r3d for th3 t4sk 4t h4nd.  
GC: 1 WONT F41L YOU  
NR: Th4t 1 should hop3 you w1ll not. 1 h4v3 b33n most g3n3rous 1n off3r1ng th1s chanc3, 3v3n cons1d3r1ng your r3cord.  
NR: 1f you f41l to 4ppr3h3nd th3 Ros3 hum4n, 1 w1ll no long3r b3 abl3 to gu4r4nt33 you my prot3ct1on.  
NR: My d34r, d34r pupil.  
GC: ROS3 1S 4 TR1CKY ON3, BUT SH3S GOT NOWH3R3 TO RUN  
GC: WH4T 4BOUT VRISK4?  
GC: G4H, TH1S 1S G3TT1NG CONFUS1NG  
NR: 4gr33d. You 4r3 my h3moc4st3 3qu4l, but 1nf3r1or 1n r4nk.  
NR: You w1ll 4m3nd your text to 4 mor3 n3utr4l color.  
GC: BLUH >:P  
GC: TH1S F33LS SO WRONG SOM3HOW  
GC: ITS L1K3 TRY1NG TO T4LK 4ROUND 4 PROT31N CHUT3 FULL OF DUST BUNN13S  
NR: 1rr3l3v4nt. 4s 1s Vr1sk4.  
GC: APOLOG13S  
GC: 1 THOUGHT TH3 WHOL3 PO1NT OF MY B31NG H3R3 W4S TO STOP H3R  
NR: 4 ch4nc3 you h4v3 squ4nd3r3d 4lly1ng yours3lf w1th 4 known crimin4l.  
NR: 1f the Ros3 hum4n 1s succ3ssful, 1t 1s l1k3ly th4t w4r c4n b3 4v3rt3d, but you 4r3 to t4k3 no 4ct1on on h3r b3h4lf. W3 c4nnot r1sk 1t.  
NR: 3v3n should sh3 tr1umph, 1t 1s poss1bl3 th4t th3 hum4n g4ngs m4y d3c1d3 to 1n1t14t3 confl1ct r3g4rdl3ss.  
NR: Our pr1or1ty should b3 s3cur1ng 4ny 4dd1t1on4l 4dv4nt4g3 to l3v3r4g3 4g41st th3m.  
GC: 1 UND3RST4ND WH4T YOU 4R3 S4Y1NG  
GC: BUT VR1SK4 1S MOR3 D4NG3ROUS, 4ND COMPL3T3LY UNR3P3NT4NT  
GC: SH3 H4S TO F4C3 JUST1C3!  
NR: Sh3 w1ll, 4ll 1n th3 fulln3ss of t1m3. 1t 1s wh4t 1s m34nt to h4pp3n, 4nd sh3 c4nnot ch4ng3 th4t.  
NR: Connc3ntr4t3 only on th3 hum4n. R3m41n 4s clos3 to h3r 4s poss1bl3.  
NR: 1 h4v3 b33n r34d1ng th3 logs you s3nt m3, cont41n1ng your conv3rs4t1ons th1s p4st month. I b3l13v3 you h4v3 built up 4 c3rt41n r4pport, corr3ct?  
NR: 1f poss1bl3, us3 th4t to your advantage >:|  
GC: 4S YOU COMM4ND  
GC: HOLD ON, THEYR3 ST4RT1NG

\-- grinningCarabinieri [GC] has ceased trolling neotypeRegulator [NR] \--

“Legislacerator Vibora has been granted privilege clearance at the highest levels by the Empress’ personal staff,” Kanaya was explaining, gesturing to the greenblood who stood at her side in military rigidity. “I can assure you all that there will be no second occurrence of yesterday’s disaster.”

“Damn straight there won’t,” Vriska snapped, all heat and sweat. “I’m not letting one of those near me again, you hear?” Rose cleared her throat demurely.

“If I may interrupt, there is one Legislacerator present that Ms. Serket does trust with her life—in fact she has done so in the past.” Rose gestured to the crowd, where Terezi was standing. “A bit unorthodox, perhaps, but I can testify that she is proficient enough to deal.”

“Unorthodox? You must be out of your mind, human girl! She was a competitor in this tournament!” The oliveblood gave off a faint hint of brimstone, appropriately. Worse, her words tasted like rotten eggs. Terezi decided immediately to dislike her.

Kanaya, however, was nodding in approval. “This is Derse, your fearfulness. I find this suggestion acceptable. Terezi Pyrope, if you agree to this offer you will be compensated by this hive for your time and undergo background inspection as a normal member of the staff. Be aware that your actions during the tournament will be recorded at all times. Engaging in any sleight of hand would be unwise.”

Terezi peered at Rose, mirthful, and Vriska, impatient and livid. Their flavors ran together over the table, a sherbet of mint and blackberry. This was going to be the most delicious showdown Terezi had ever seen up close.

“Get me a cap,” she said, “and you’ve got a dealer.”


	11. =>

The cards felt warm under her fingers, almost alive. Though Terezi couldn’t truly see the symbols decorating the hands she dealt, she read the impact of them off of the other players. The King of Spades was powerful and frightening, a bully of a man with a grim mustache and brandished weapon. His Queen must be a lonely woman. The Jack of Diamonds, on the other hand, was young and fresh, likeable in his general ignorance of the world. Her favorite was the Queen of Hearts, whose human name she had once heard to be Judy, or at least something like that. She was the queen of Spades’ sister. Behind her gentle smile and coy flower lay something dangerous, a threat to whosoever would stand in the way of what she believed in. The Jack of Hearts probably took after her, despite his aloof posture and knowing smirk. Jack was such an odd title, though. To continue the human court theme, perhaps Knight would suit him better…

Vriska cleared her throat, breaking the reverie. “In your own time,” she said. “It’s not like we’ve got anything important riding on the outcome here.”

“Shhhhh” Terezi said, smearing the deck in circles on the table before flicking it quickly back into place. “The card gods don’t appreciate it when you rush them.” Keeping her head turned towards the other troll, her hands caught three cards from the top of the deck like salmon from a stream, plopping them haphazardly in front of the box.

10♥ 5♣ K♦

From the smell of the other players, only Rose and the portly troll had a shot. Vriska raised once and folded, frowning slightly. The bridge of her nose crinkled with concentration, and for a second Terezi had the absurd sensation that she and Vriska were swapping thoughts, strategies. It passed quickly, as she dealt 2♦ and 4♠ and the other four players engaged in another series of aggressive bets. The troll won the hand easily with pocket Kings, diminishing the others’ stacks by a prodigious amount. Unlike what little Terezi had observed of her game yesterday, Rose appeared to be throwing caution to the air-conditioned breeze.

“Gooood hand,” Vriska said approvingly, speaking to the other troll but smiling sideways at Rose. “Guess our dealer isn’t as terrible at cards as she is at dispensing justice.”

Reaching with her cane, Terezi neatly scooped the chips into the troll player’s pile. “Even on Derse,” she said, “I would think it bad manners to confess to your evil deeds in public. Some of us were trying to have a serious game.”

“Gosh, living in the past much? I’ve changed my ways!”

Terezi nudged her glasses back into place and gave a pointed look around the auditorium. “Tell that to them.”

The next hand left a sour taste in her mouth even before she played it, but at least the two trolls must have had pocket cards because the pot reached over 300,000 before the flop. When she dealt 4♥ 7♥ 8♠ both of the humans next to Rose let out an odor of adrenaline and disappointment, but both continued to call as Vriska raised through 10♠ and 8♣, taking the pot. All players’ chip values had been reset for the final table, but Vriska now easily outstripped them all, while the other four struggled to remain in the game.

As Terezi drew the cards back into herself, a nearly inaudible humming lit up the corner of her glasses. She awkwardly attempted to keep going at the cards with one hand while shutting it off, but was not quite fast enough.

\-- thornedTreatise [TT] began pestering grinningCarabinieri [GC] \--

GC: ROS3 STOP 1T NOW!  
GC: YOUR3 GO1NG TO B3 D1SQU4L1F1ED >:O  
TT: Do you honestly mean to tell me that you haven’t read the official tournament rules?  
TT: And, in fact, that you do not have the entire document memorized down to the last clause and footnote, such as the one noting that electronic communication during tournaments is monitored but not forbidden?  
TT: Oh how the mighty have fallen.

Fingers groping to regain her composure, Terezi dealt a new hand, K♥ K♦ 10♠. The table bent over in consideration, granting her a short breather.

GC: DO YOU R34LLY W4NT TO G1V3 TH3M 4N 3XCUS3??  
TT: Not terribly, but it’s worth it to watch you squirm.  
TT:I’m going to guess that debtor’s prison on Alternia is the sort of place where community service involves being put through an alchemiter as a most serviceable ironing board.  
GC: WH4T 1S 3V3N TH3 PO1NT OF TH1S?  
GC: 1 4M 1N F4CT NOT CHE4T1NG, D3SP1T3 TH3 M1S3R4BL3 W4Y YOU 4R3 CONT1NU1NG TO LOS3

Rose reached over the table towards Terezi, drawing a stern glare from Kanaya. Terezi felt a sharp pinch, and followed Rose’s gaze to Vriska, who was glancing back and forth between them in confusion. Rose reraised against Vriska, increasing the pot to a an even 10,000.

TT: This won’t be proper unless everyone can join.

\-- thornedTreatise [TT] has opened a memo on the board: Derse’s Boonbonds 013--

\-- arachnesGravedigger [AG] responded to the current memo --

AG: Wh8t the hell is this?  
TT: An opportunity.  
TT: I believe it is time to get whatever there is between us off our chests.  
TT: As you know full well, the world, and I daresay the room we are standing in, is going to change dramatically in the course of the next few hands.  
GC: WH4T M4K3S YOU TH1NK TH3R3S 4NYTH1NG TO S4Y?  
GC: WH4T3V3R 1S GO1NG TO H4PP3N W1LL HAPPEN R3G4RDL3SS 

Terezi turned the next card, 4♦. Three players folded, almost at their limit, but Rose and Vriska stayed in the running. If Rose raised one more time, she would have to go all in.

TT: A very typical troll remark, Terezi.  
AG: And just what is th8t supposed to mean?  
TT: Your species has a peculiar obsession with destiny.  
TT: Vriska might just be the exception to that rule, which should make this very interesting.

The final card for the hand came up 7♥. Rose called, and Vriska followed suit, flipping her cards onto the table before the dealer’s box: 10♥ 7♦. Rose peeled her hand up to peek under it, letting out a soft exhalation. As Vriska crawled over the table to grab at her pile, Rose’s hand shot out and slapped her. Vriska recoiled as if she had been stung. Breaking into an audible grin, Rose revealed her own hand: K♠ K♣.

AG: Slow rolling me, really?  
AG: Did no8ody schoolfeed you some basic poker etiquitte????????  
GC: >:]  
AG: Oh and what are you grinning 8t?  
TT: Fate, if I had to guess.  
TT: The karmic circle.

As the next hands were dealt, Rose studied Vriska’s expression and folded immediately. The other players were not so wise. As they reached the turn, the troll went all in, followed desperately and simultaneously by the humans at the river. Vriska’s face contorted in a mockery of tortured thought, before at last she relented and cleaned them out. The scent of agitation, like a match being struck, filtered through the air much more strongly from every side.

AG: How’s that for some k8rma?  
AG: Read em and weep Lalonde, I can do this all d8y!!!!!!!!  
TT: Oh Vriska, you dear girl.  
TT: Pride goeth before the fall.  
TT: Terezi, do you recall what I told you about my parents all those years ago?  
GC: YOU M34N 4BOUT TH3 3XP3R1M3NTS  
GC: TO M4K3 TH3 P3RF3CT K1D OR WH4T3V3R?  
AG: Oh my god, you were a test tu8e 8a8y?  
AG: Is that supposed to explain why you’re such an empirical fucking thesaurus?  
TT: Not really, no.  
TT: You’ll discover the answer though, in merely a second.

\-- thornedTreatise [TT] has closed the memo --

“Terezi.” Rose said, patting the table. “Shall we continue?” Terezi blinked a few times to try and clear her head. The concentration required keeping up with the game and subvocal debate left her dehydrated and strangely tipsy. Straightening her tie, she dealt the hands, collected the blinds, and placed the first three cards: 4♥ 9♥ K♠

Rose’s hand didn’t smell of sameness, like Vriska’s did. Vriska was holding a lot of red, and for once her expression telegraphed her pleasure.

Both women raised. The turn was 7♥. “All in,” said Rose.

Vriska nodded. “All in.” She looked to Terezi. With a smack that rattled Terezi’s aural membranes, Rose dropped a palm to the table.

“Just a second,” she said. Every hostile eye in the casino was upon her. “I have a simple request. As this will be the most important draw of the round, I request that Terezi spade the deck.”

“Excuse me?!”

“She means for you to order and reshuffle it,” Vriska snapped. “Fine, go ahead, but if you think you’re putting me off my game, don’t forget that we’re already in this for keeps!” Something was wrong with her eyes—the left kept drifting erratically, and a tic had developed along her cheek. Where once she had carried the perfume of threats and nervous adrenaline, her whole aura reeked of confusion and pain. Much like Terezi’s own.

Terezi reached for the deck, slowly, longingly. Her hands, usually quick and agile, felt weighted down. The bridge of her nose and her forehead, meanwhile, were drenched with a frosty lightness. She couldn’t tell what Rose might be planning, but it was clear to her what the odds must be. One in a hundred would be a generous estimate. Tired and cold as she was, she couldn’t have cheated even if she wanted to. Rose was going to lose, completely this time. But then she cleared her throat

“All the luck you’ve ever had, Vriska, is luck that you stole. I, on the other hand, was born to it.”

The troll rolled her eyes significantly. “Big deal, you got some good breaks last hand. Are we gonna finish this tonight, or do you intend to talk me into giving up?”

“Tell me, Vriska, have you ever heard of the Clover Initiative?”

“Oh my god, do you actually think I’m still listening to this bullshit?” Vriska glanced around at her audience, smirking, but there was a slight edge to her smile, like she was wound up too tight on the inside.

“It was a program from before the Cataclysm,” Rose continued. “Parents from all over Earth entered a specialized lottery. Just one catch—the winners they bred together. Then the next generation the children of those finalists would compete, and so on until there were fewer and fewer remaining.” A smile began to tease around the edges of her lips as she savored each word. “The last winner before the world ended, and previous proprietors of my immense fortune, were one Mr. and Mrs. Lalonde.” 

All other ears at the table were now clearly perked up. Some spectators seemed incredulous, others genuinely rapt. Terezi hesitated, a few cards almost falling free of her grip. The story was ludicrous, and yet… Rose had always been in the right place, in the right time, had never needed worry about money even when her entire species changed currency… it all seemed so correct.

But Rose wasn’t done yet. She flipped her cards down onto the table for everyone to see: 10♥ J♣ 

“All I lack is a queen to complete the set. Ordinarily at this point in the game my odds of winning would be less than 13%. One card remains to be dealt. And that card will be the Queen of Spades.” Vriska said nothing. Her mouth was open slightly, and her eyes had taken on a glazed, haunted look, like she was seeing specters from her past. “It wasn’t your luck that brought me here, Vriska Serket. It was mine. It brought me off a dying rock with everything I could ever ask for, it gave me chances you never had. Friends you tell yourself you’ll never need. And now it’s going to give me the chance to take revenge on you for all the ways you tried to hurt me and mine.” With each proclamation Rose became more emphatic, more rhythmic in her cadence, till Terezi swore she could hear the echoes of it ringing in her thinkpan. The cards were flying in her hands, without her thought or concentration.

__
    
    
    				_The queen of spades_  
     _The Queen of Sp8des_				_The Queen of spades_  
     _The Queen of Spades_		_The Queen of Sp8des_  
    
    
     _TH3 QU33N OF SP4D3S_

 

Terezi felt like she was fighting to hold onto the casino, but her grip was slipping fast. Not towards sleep, but somewhere else. Something else, the tendrils of which were intent on claiming her vulnerable mind. Everyone was applauding for something, and Rose stood up in her seat, arms raised, colossal. A cart was wheeled over, displaying the trophy as well as a silver briefcase, which opened to reveal the extent of her fortune. It was real, but mostly for show. After a stunt like whatever she had just pulled, Rose would be lucky to take two steps outside the hall before she was dragged away. Vriska looked as though she wasn’t going to make it that far. Fleshy, gloved hands fell on her shoulders, lifting her high as her legs kicked feebly. The world exploded in sound and flavor.

The sound of the fire danger signal snapped Terezi into partial alertness, and she pushed away from the table to grab her cane. Crimson klaxons flashed with hummingbird beats in a chamber now black as pitch. Terezi did not need the light. She switched her glasses off, extending her cane to its maximum length, and began to hurry through the developing riot. She just had to find Rose—but as she ducked under an incoming lunatic with a five iron, her senses were able to make out the final table once more. Vriska was gone, the troll that had been gripping her clutching his knee and howling into the maelstrom. So was Rose, and so was the briefcase. With a sinking feeling in her bloodpusher, Terezi tucked her coat under one arm and made a beeline for the exit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Queen of Spades is often considered to signify misfortune; in a standard game of Old Maid she is the card with no “pair” or mate. She is also associated with intellect and planning. The card lends its name to an Alexander Pushkin story, revolving around a man who is obsessed with a supposed lucky secret of betting on three cards in a particular order that will allow him to win a fortune at gambling. In the end, his greed leads to his downfall. Through mischance, or perhaps fate, he picks the Queen of Spades instead of the card he intended, resulting in the loss of his fortunes and his sanity.


	12. Epilogue: The Dead Man's Hand

\-- thornedTreatise [TT] began pestering grinningCarabinieri [GC] \--

TT: Terezi.  
TT: If you are reading this, you are now a wanted troll on multiple counts of theft, conspiracy, and accessory to the crime of the century.  
TT: You also have, to a lesser extent than myself, saved the world.  
TT: I am so, so proud of you.  
GC: WH4T D1D YOU DO?!  
GC: WH4T D1D YOU DO TO M3?!?!  
TT: Oh that. Merely the same drug cocktail Vriska was administering to all of the contestants at the tournament.   
TT: Much less diluted, unfortunately. And upon further confirmation I assume you’re supposed to absorb it through the skin, not inject it directly into the bloodstream.   
TT: Also highly illegal to alchemize, if one is not operating a device jury-rigged to do so like the ones at the Sunshine.  
GC: 1TS L1K3 MY H34D 1S BR34K1NG OV3R 4ND OV3R 4ND OV3R  
GC: 1T K33PS H4PP3N1NG D:<  
TT: Oh don’t be such a wriggler; it didn’t manage to kill me.  
TT: Though I am impressed that you can manage to abscond while griping at such length.   
TT: That wasn’t me, by the way, with the alarms.  
GC: DO 1 S33M L1K3LY TO C4R3 4T TH3 MOM3NT 4BOUT TH3 F1N3R PO1NTS OF YOUR 4M4Z1NG PL4N TO RU1N MY L1F3?  
TT: Your lack of intellectual curiosity is quite frankly a crushing disappointment.  
TT: Who else do I have to hold these stimulating discussions with?  
TT: It was Kanaya, since you seem to be so intent on taking all the amusement out of this.  
GC: WH4T SH3 D3C1D3D ON 4CCOUNT OF YOUR 4M4Z1NG LUCK TO S4V3 YOU FROM C3RT41N D34TH?  
TT: Me? Of course not. Try to keep up with the class Pyrope.  
TT: I knew exactly what she would do if Vriska fell into immediate danger.  
TT: After I pricked her pride about it the other night, I had full confidence in her, and she did not disappoint.  
TT: Of course she will claim untraceable sabotage on my part, despite the obvious impossibility of such an arrangement.  
TT: So you see Terezi, luck had nothing to do with it.  
GC: TH3N 4LL TH4T STUFF 4BOUT YOUR P4R3NTS…  
TT: Oh god, I sincerely hope these are the psychotropic hallucinogens talking.  
TT: That was entirely fiction—not even my own fiction at that.  
TT: I’d been in Vriska’s quarters, remember; her taste in literature was atrocious.  
TT: A little less Starship Pals and a trifle more Ringworld might’ve done her a world of good.  
GC: VR1SK4  
GC: WH4T D1D YOU DO W1TH H3R? >:[  
GC: M4YB3 1’LL TH1NK 4BOUT G1V1NG YOU 4 H34DST4RT  
TT: I’m afraid you have the wrong woman; I didn't “do” anything to her.  
TT: In fact, she pilfered my quarters on her way out, taking all my spare credit chips, valuables and most of my collection of personal reading material  
TT: Even you should understand, oh partner mine, that there are some things that millions in casino winnings cannot replace  
TT: She also happened to make off with a rather unique keepsake of mine, a ring, specifically.  
GC: 4ND TH1S BURGL4RY R3PORT CONC3RNS YOUR TR34SON HOW?  
TT: I do hope she didn’t think to try it on. It’s terribly hard to get off, or so I’ve heard.  
TT: That, and its nodules might release a dangerous chemical agent known to incite extreme antisocial behavior in otherwise placid local residents.  
GC: >:?  
TT: Let me put it a way you’re more likely to understand.  
TT: As someone very important to me, from whom I purchased that ring, once put it:  
TT: “No one escapes the ‘Diles.”  
GC: ROS3 4R3 YOU CONF3SS1NG TO MURD3R? >:O  
GC: 3V3RY R4MBL1NG 3XCUS3 YOU TYP3 C4N 4ND W1LL B3 R3CORD3D 1N 4 MULT1-VOLUM3 TOM3 4ND US3D TO BLUDG3ON YOU W1TH 1N 4 COURT OF L4W  
TT: Murder? What an appalling accusation.  
TT: Vriska is quite a capable and resourceful troll.  
TT: I’m not a gambling woman (as I believe you of all trolls should understand).  
TT: But if I were?   
TT: I wouldn’t bet against her.  
GC: W41T WH3R3 WOULD YOU G3T SUCH CR1M1N4L M3RCH4ND1S3  
GC: ROS3…  
TT: Ah, right, that was your idea, actually.  
TT: I should be thanking you.  
TT: Teaming up with the Midnight Crew turned out to be quite a profitable and fortuitous arrangement from any angle of consideration.  
GC: >:!!  
TT: After all, it was only their sacrificing their best-positioned pawn that allowed me to maneuver you to where I needed you to be.  
GC: YOU  
GC: 1  
GC: WH3N 1 F1ND YOU  
TT: Yes. When you finally locate me, which I promise I will not make easy for you.  
TT: Why, then we can see what happens when the mastermind behind the Sunshine Casino heist squares off against the greatest Legislacerator of her time.  
TT: Space is a rather large frontier in which to waste time tracking a fugitive, or even two.  
TT: And somewhere out there is justice that needs executing. Wickedness that needs its knees stomped backwards. >:]  
GC: >:O  
GC: Y3S! >:]  
GC: YOU SP34K SURPR1S1NG 4MOUNTS OF TRUTH FOR 4 D3SP1C4BL3 V1LL41N  
TT: Well, I’m really more misunderstood. Perhaps the law could make an exception in my case?  
GC: TH3 L4W KNOWS OF NO SUCH 3XC3PT1ONS ROS3 >:]   
GC: >:]  
GC: TH3 T1M3 FOR B4RG41N1NG 1S LONG S1NC3 P4ST  
GC: NOW 1S TH3 T1M3 FOR QU4K1NG 1N YOUR 1N1QU1TOUS FOOT G4RM3NTS 4T TH3 THOUGHT OF MY 4PPRO4CH  
TT: Oh, I’m quaking all right, Terezi.  
TT: But more than that.  
TT: I’m looking forward to it.

\-- connection to thornedTreatise [TT] has been lost --

GC: …  
GC: OH WH4T TH3 H3LL  
GC: M3 TOO >:]


End file.
